


Promises

by RavenAurelieChoiseau



Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Boys Will Be Boys, Canon Lesbian Character, Cousins, David is a sweetheart, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, Falling In Love, Family, Feels, First Time, Fluff, Friendship, Girls Kissing, I try to keep their personality traits as canon as possible, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Intimate talks, Lesbian Character, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Men Crying, Michelle is the best cousin ever, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Protected Sex, Revenge, Romantic Fluff, Sadness, Sister Michael is salty af, Slightly off canon relationships, Swearing, Tags May Change, Timeline liberties, Underage Drinking, current tags apply to the entire fic and not to this one chapter, personal talks, these two are too cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-01-04 04:50:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18336524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenAurelieChoiseau/pseuds/RavenAurelieChoiseau
Summary: James receives some bad news which leads to a butterfly effect of events.His friends step in to help, perhaps more than he'd like or expected.





	1. The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> This will have at least three chapters and will be heavily focused on James and his relationships.  
> Mention of Orla and Clare is in the story but they won't ever do more than kiss. I've taken liberties with timelines and  
> storyline but have done my best to keep character traits as canon as possible.  
> MInor trigger warning for panic attack description. Rated mature just in case for language and future sexual situations. Tags apply to the completed fic so some may not be found in this chapter. They may also change as the story progresses. Enjoy!

An overcast sky turns everything dreary.  
Dreary in Derry isn’t exactly a novelty.  
  
James thinks about this as he gasps for air in ragged breaths. Not that London is the cheeriest of places but at least there… there was _life._ Here... it’s like he’s only surrounded by departure. In every sense of the term.  
Leaving.  
Deviation from the expected.  
  
_Oh God. Oh Jesus. Focus. Breathe …. Breathe!_  
But he can’t. When his lungs inflate they burn and then all he can think about is the letter and that’s when his throat constricts and the bile comes rising and the fizzle… it comes back to his brain and…  
_I feel like I’m drowning._  
  
James reasons with himself. Blinks caterpillar lashes furiously.  
He focuses his pistachio eyes on the pale paint chips decorating the wall next to his bed with such fervor one would think they could save him from himself.  
Every bit missing leaves a pattern. It resembles a makeshift puzzle, he thinks, except in this one the pieces don’t fit. Not from behind this haze of anguish, anyway.  
  
Nope, nothing fits.  
Not on the wall.  
Not back in London.  
Certainly not in Derry.  
Nothing fucking fits and probably never will.  
  
*  
  
Was it only an hour ago that he and Michelle had been walking home? Before his entire existence had been shaken to the core _once again_?  
He should have known. The pall of light drizzle had made it difficult to breathe. The dampness clinging to his skin like a burial shroud thickened the air with gloom.  
It was almost foreboding.  
  
Also dread isn’t anything new in Derry.  
  
James swears he can still taste it. The premonition.  
It’s bitter on his tongue as he throws himself, weepy, from his sitting position into a fetal ball of despair.  
_What was I expecting? I mean…really?!_ _Just exactly how shite am I?_  
  
James shrinks in on himself. Even smaller than his narrow, unmade bed. He rests his head on his bicep and sobs softly.  
The roaring in his ears grows louder and louder until James can barely make out the clink of glass and the shrill of high-pitched feminine laughter coming from below.  
In his right hand, curled into a claw, he cuddles a pillow to his chest. The other holds the now damp, crumpled letter page. This was the last tether he had to home. And now it’s broken.  
_I’m never going back. Not even my own mother wanted me._  
  
“ _Dear James,”_  
He swallows hard and bites back the pain.  
_“I’m sure it’s not lost on you how difficult this all has been. We’ve been going through it together.”_  
An elephant sits on his chest.  
“ _I think we both knew this could never work. These were the dreams of children.”_  
His cheeks burn in remembrance.  
_“I can’t wait for you. I’m sorry. I’ve met another.”_  
The rill of his tears are liquid fire down his smooth skin.  
_“Know I loved you greatly.”_  
His stomach twists over, almost making him wince.  
“ _Goodbye James. Be well. Myles”_  
  
*  
  
Dawn was pleating light through the blinds. It was quiet in Myles’ flat save for a ticking grandfather clock in the study below.  
James’ gaze strayed sleepily around the now-familiar space. Simon Le Bon smiled down at him from a poster across the room.  
  
“Myles? Are you awake?” James whispered softly as he inched closer, molding himself into the curve of his boyfriend’s body.  
The nearness, the heat of the flesh warming his back comforted him. Knowing he could count on Myles settled his uneasy soul.  
“Yes, barely luv,” Myles mumbled, eyes still bleary with sleep.  
When James rolled over to face him, an easy smile played at the corners of Myles’ plush mouth. How could he not with someone so perfect next to him?  
He’s so beautiful, Myles thought.  
  
James studied every detail of Myles’ face. Swore to himself he’d memorize every curve and angle. With trembling hand he smoothed over the boy's auburn hair.   
  
The ball of worry and warning was like a fist in his gut, burying itself deeper and deeper.  
James returned his smile with a pale grin, just a ghost of the real thing, bereft of any amusement or lightheartedness.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Myles fixed his milk chocolate eyes on James’ silver-dollar gaze.  
James sighed. Brought his wrist up in front of Myles’ face and showed him his watch. Pain funneled into his sternum making his chest tighten.  
  
“This time tomorrow I’ll be leaving for Derry. DERRY Myles! I can’t bear to not be with you. I just can’t bear it! Oh God… “  
His voice broke much like his heart.  
   
Myles raised his chin with a comforting stare straight into his forest eyes.  
“Hey… Hey. It’ll be alright, James. I promise. We can do this. I love you and you love me… that’s all that matters.”  
“But…”  
Myles placed a soft fingertip over his lips.   
“It’ll be complicated but we can do it. We’ll call and write letters and you can come visit on holidays… maybe I can convince Father to let me go. It won’t be easy but I know we can weather this.”  
The delicious throbbing of James’ lips made Myles shift closer to him.  
“Kiss me, James. Let’s make these last moments together as special as possible. Just forget all this for a while and kiss me.”  


*  
  
“Hey motherfucker, where are you?!” Michelle’s gentle voice shakes the walls as much as her steps unsettle the wooden floor in the hallway.    
James’ expression tenses.  
  
_Dear Lord please don’t come in here._  
It’s not so much over his own pain he feels like this… or is it? Is he lying to himself thinking he’s mourning _only_   the death of his heart?  
The door flies open before he can even twitch.  
  
“Hey dickface! What are you doing up here alone? Come downstairs and have a drink.”  
James buries his face in the pillow at the sound of her voice.  
“Go away Michelle! I don’t want to talk right now!”  
  
A groan accompanies the roll of her vale eyes. The clear liquid in the bottle Michelle is holding swishes as she sways. The round neck twirls between her thumb and index finger.  
She looks him up and down.  
“What the fuck are you on about? Are you cryin’? Jesus Christ you are such a pussy.”  
  
A mop of cocoa curls snaps up. Peering at her with a watery gaze, he can’t hold back his scream.  
“GET OUT MICHELLE! Leave me alone! I hate you! I hate this place! You don’t care about me! Nobody cares about me!”  
  
He’s never spoken like this before, especially to her.  She lets her jaw drop open and forgetting she’s holding the booze, it nearly drops to the floor.  
“What the bloody hell… “  
Michelle steps forward, arm bent to place the bottle of vodka in a safe place. It ends up on the dresser next to a balled-up sock and a stick of deodorant.  
Eyes smarting, glossed lips thin in irritation, she points at him with a long, lacquered finger.  
“Okay James. Now what the holy fuck?! Explain yourself _now!_ ”  
  
James sits up, wiping the apple of his wet cheeks with the back of his hand. He hunches over, arms resting on his thighs.  
“I’m sorry, Michelle.” More laughter floats upstairs and his attention shifts. “Who’s here?”  
Judging by the timbre of the voices it’s Orla and Clare.  
  
Michelle’s mole twitches. She throws her long, wavy hair over her shoulder as she motions to sit down on the edge of the bed.  
“No James. Don’t change the subject. What the fuck was that about? Why are you cryin’ up here like a wain?” Her breath smells of vodka and mint.  
  
This time she doesn’t sound bitchy. For once. James wonders if he might be able to confide in her.  
Jesus, he sure has no one else.  
  
He wrings his hands in front of him, what’s left of the letter falling to the duvet. Michelle bends her head, gaze falling on the dampened lettering.  
“What the fuck is that?”  
Licking his chapped lips with the tip of his papery tongue, he pushes it to her with two fingers.  
“Something’s happened. Under any other circumstance I might tell you to wind your neck in, but I’ve got no one else,” he hiccups.  
Michelle’s about to make a cheeky remark but then watches another round tear plop onto the fabric of James’ uniform trousers.  
James trembles and nibbles nervously on the dried skin of his lower lip. Anything she’d want to say right now would be a low blow.  
   
“I need to tell you something. But for the love of God please don’t take the mick right now, Michelle, because I’m gutted and if you do I’m liable to riot.”  
She nods, a wee bit frightened by his emotional state.  
“Alright, alright. So what the fuck am I looking at?”  
“Read it.”  
The paper crinkles between her fingers as she smooths out the four corners. Shock widens her eyes with every line.  
“Oh feck off, no way! You really ARE gay!”  
  
James gasps.  
The news sends electricity along her arms. She stifles an expletive with a palm over her mouth.  James instantly regrets all of it… grabs the letter from her in panic.  
“Nevermind Michelle. It’s not important. Please just go… “  
Scurrying to his feet, he crumples the sheet into a wad and throws it in the bin near his desk. His ribs rise and fall in quick succession.  
  
“No fucking way!” She stands up, one hand on her hip and the other indicating the letter in the trash.  
“That ride just pied you off and in a letter no less! Didn’t have the fucking courage to pick up a phone! You may be an English ball-ache but you’re OUR English ball-ache. He’s not gonna get away with this!”  
  
James tugs at his earlobe, words stranded in his throat. Is his cousin actually defending him?!  
Michelle paces from left to right, a mad speech spilling from her lips to an imaginary crowd.  
“Unbelievable! That heartless prick! He’ll wish he were never born!”  
“Michelle, I think revenge might be a bit rash, I mean… “  
  
She doesn’t pay attention to him. She’s already at the door, yelling down to the girls.  
“Orla! Clare! Get your arses up here! James really IS gay and now we have to plan revenge. Somebody call Erin!”  
  
Oh Christ, James thinks. What have I done?


	2. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James and the girls discuss their plan, later putting it into practice.  
> Sister Michael makes an interesting and unexpected revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Derry Girls are back together and creating more mischief.  
> I love so Michelle so much in this story I just might riot.

Everyone moves to Erin’s room. Michelle drags a mumbling James by the arm, coaxing him forward with tugs. “Come along, James! Christ! Move your hole! I’m pissed, I’m not gonna carry you!”  
His arms limp, body bent forward at the waist… from afar it looks like she’s dragging a rag doll on stilts.  
  
Once they’ve said their hellos to Erin’s family they settle upstairs. Orla and Clare lay on Erin’s bed, holding hands. Michelle and James sit on the far corners of the mattress.  
Much like with the jobs board incident, Erin has taken over. She stands at the foot of her bed, pink pen poised on the notebook in hand. Sinead O’ Connor studies them all from the poster hanging behind her.  
  
“Right. So here’s the situation. We have our poor James…” She points to him cap-end, the look on her face mingling eagerness and tenderness.  
“Homosexual. Heartbroken.” She scribbles on the paper, tongue lodged in the corner of her mouth.  
“Why are you writing _that_ down?” James whines, chest tightening. He’s even more miserable than before.  
Erin casts a compassionate look at him with large, watery eyes as she angles her face down.  
“I’m sorry James, I have to be thorough,” she adds with a slow shake of her straw-colored head.  
James hides his in his hands with a groan.  
  
“Right. As I was saying… a young English boy by the name of Myles has cruelly ended their relationship via written correspondence. I think we can all agree that that is a very cowardly gesture. Shakespearean almost, if you will.”  
Casting a glance round the room which clearly is seeking approval, everyone nods mutely except James.  
“It’s a fucking dick move is what it is” Michelle chimes in.  
“I agree. We’re so sorry James,” Clare leans forward and touches him on the shoulder warmly, her normally bright sky eyes darkened with pity.    
James smiles back at her weakly, kind of wishing he were ANYWHERE else.  
  
Pen hoisted in the air like a rifle, Erin raises her voice to a commanding tone.  
“It is our moral duty as Derry Girls and Catholics to help you, James. You are one of our own. And when one of us falls, another picks up the slack. Much like Simon of Cyrene helped our Lord Jesus by carrying his cross, we will carry you, James.”  
“Oh Dear God,” James whispers.  
“Fucking hell.” Falling back onto the bed, Michelle rolls her eyes until you can only see the whites.  
Orla glances at Clare, a smile curled at her full lips. “Stations of the cross. Number 8. That’s a cracker station.”  
“Let us begin. May ‘Operation Revenge on Myles’ commence,” Erin’s booming announcement continues.  
  
Half raising his hand, James protests once more. “Look, I really appreciate the help but I don’t think we-“  
Springing upright, Michelle spins to look at him, eyebrows triangled in annoyance.  
“Nobody cares what you think, James. I’m not sleepin’ in the next room listening to you fucking cry every night like a wain. You need this. For closure.”  
Erin nods vehemently and murmured comments of agreement fill the room.  
“Indeed. You need closure, James. Closure. Now… “ Erin taps her writing instrument on the edge of the notebook. “Let’s gather ideas.”

_  
  
“How about we do nothing and forget about this?” James tries again in vain.  
Erin’s face contorts in insult as she gasps. “Absolutely out of the question, James. Now… ideas.”  
  
Orla sits up suddenly, the hoodie falling from her auburn curls in a soft whisper of fabric to her shoulders.  
“I got it! What if we ask Farmer Walsh for a sheep’s heart? We can put a stake through it and when Myles gets it he’ll see the note attached saying ‘this is what you did to my heart…and what I’m going to do to yours before I eat it.’ Every week we send him another piece of the sheep with a new message.”  
Her words drag out, as if her voice were an old record player that needs cranking.  
  
Silence falls on the room. Erin’s jaw drops.  
James and Michelle look over their shoulders, their moss eyes saucered.  
“Clare, would you like to address this one?” Erin asks, a tremor to her voice.  
She’d rather concede this to Orla’s girlfriend. Clare pales.  
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Orla Lecter?” Michelle interjects. “Jesus Christ you’ve lost the plot.”  
  
Raising her palms in the air, Orla shrugs. “I think we have to go in strong. What says ‘I don’t care about you anymore’ than a box of bloody sheep bits?”  
Swaying her head from side to side, Clare’s bangs bounce on her forehead. “Orla… I …. “  
Blue marbles dart about the room. Clare decides there really isn’t anything she can add to this.  
  
“Right . Well. Moving on. Anyone else have a suggestion that doesn’t include the defiling of dead animal remains?!”  
Erin’s snub nose wrinkles as Michelle raises her hand, a smirk playing on her lips. She studies James’ face which has become the embodiment of terror.  
“Michelle… please don’t.” His lips are one seamless white line. He knows exactly what his cousin is thinking.  
“I’ve got an idea, girls.”  
  
As she’s explaining the details, everyone seems to be enthusiastic except for Erin and James, the latter blushing terribly.  
“But why him?” Erin stutters, lips curled. “There are plenty of available gentlemen in Derry… “  
The chatter continues.  
“Oh just take one for the team, Erin! He isn’t gonna ask you out anyway,” Clare chimes in, not doing anything at all to cover up her annoyance.  
Tapping her knee with the fingers of one hand, Michelle addresses Erin as well.   
“Aye come on Erin… he’s a massive ride… _and James likes him_.”  
“I do not-“ James gasps.   
  
“Don’t fecking try to deny it, James. I see the way your eyes light up when you see him… Myles or not you’ve totally been into him. And don’t think I didn’t fucking hear you in the bathroom the other day, mumbling his name under your breath. Could you be more transparent?”  
“Oh my God…”  
Clare smirks. “James you little minx.”  
  
Flipping her carefree waves over her shoulder, Michelle chuckles. “And I have it on good authority he plays for both teams. I have a feeling he likes James back.”  
Erin rolls her eyes in unfettered contempt. “He’s no bisexual… who told you that?!”  
James perks up, leaning forward. “Yeah, who told you that?”  
  
Orla and Michelle pronounce the name at the same time. “Padraig O’ Sullivan.”  
“Feck off no way!” Clare exclaims. “You knew Orla?!”  
Body completely relaxed against the headboard, she slow nods. “Aye. Michelle and I saw.”  
Mouthing things with no sound coming out, Erin scribbles in her notebook.  
“Wait, are you writing all that down?” James exclaims.

Michelle plays with the ends of her curls. “We did. We saw them. I swear on James’ life.”  
James is aghast but Michelle ignores him with a wave of her hand.  
“They kissed last year after that party Jenny Joyce had when she got her fucking braces off. Like that’s a reason to throw a fucking party. But I’m getting sidetracked… anyway Padraig got pissed and David was curious. You know, coming to terms with his feelings and all that shite. Padraig dragged him into one of the eight bedrooms that spoiled brat Jenny Joyce has in her maze of a house _and_ -”  she pauses for effect, “apparently they wore the faces off each other.”  
  
Erin squirms in place, visibly disturbed. “I don’t think that’s true… “  
“Erin for fuck’s sake, just let James have him. He’s not interested in you!” Clare screams.  
James runs the back of his hand across his forehead, the room suddenly warmer.  
  
“Yeah Erin. You’ve obviously never seen the way he looks at James when we stop by Dennis’ Wee Shop.”  Michelle leans back, giving Clare a slanted look. “Clare, you should see the lad Padraig is shifting now. A ride and a half. From Ballynagard.”  
“Isn’t he from Ballylawn?” Orla asks.  
“Feck off, no. How’d he get to Derry so easily then?”  
  
Erin dry coughs. Hunching her shoulders she bends her mind to the focus of the discussion.  
“Everyone, let’s please come back to the task at hand. Right. Well. Given circumstances and… facts presented, I shall nobly step aside in the spirit of selflessness. James, I shall assist you in this quest for revenge and closure-“  
“I never really asked…” James mumbles.  
“I shall give up my claim and –“ cheeks heated by beating blood, Erin shrugs in resignation. She almost bows. “James, you can have David Donnelly.”  
Clare draws her palm to her forehead and Michelle snickers. “You’re a regular martyr, Erin.”

-

They’re all standing in front of Dennis’ Wee Shop. Orla and Clare hold hands, their arms swaying.  
Ignoring the usual buzz of morning comers and goers, all their eyes are trained on the street.  
  
“He’ll be here any minute.” Michelle’s pacing. She’s nervous for James, and despite being a massive pain in the ass she decided yesterday she wants to see him happy. No one wants to deal with a weepy Englishman.  
“I called his house and told him we needed to speak to him.”  
  
James gently puts his thumb and forefinger on his eyelids. “Oh dear God Michelle please tell me you didn’t.”  
“Listen up, ball-ache, how else was I supposed to get him here?”  
  
“Shut up you two. There he is. There’s David Donnelly. Nobody look, here he comes.” Erin’s voice is a tremor. She knows she’s “given” him to James, but still the very sight of him makes her eyes shiny.  
The emptiness in her gut is replaced by a steel ball. All reason settles in her… this is the right thing to do. She tells herself that. Had David been interested he’d have done something by now.  
  
“We’re all looking, Erin! We fucking told him to come!” Michelle grabs James by the arm and pulls him forward.  
The closer David gets, the more the blood drains from James’ head and a strange roaring fills his ears.  
  
“Oh God girls I don’t think I can do this. I think I’m going to vomit.”  
Spinning him around by his shoulders, her fingernails dig into the flesh of his biceps.  
“Listen James, you fucking boke right now I’m going to send _you_ and not the fucking sheep back to London in pieces. Let your balls drop and get a bit of courage!”  
“I told you the sheep was a good idea,” Orla murmurs.  
Clare just shakes her head.  
  
Giving a forced and tense nod of consent, James swallows hard.  
“Okay. Okay.”  
Michelle straightens his tie, and by the time he’s done nervously adjusting his jacket, David’s reached them. Michelle shoves a piece of gum in James’ mouth, who grimaces when he finds her fingertips at his lips.  
“Go get ‘em tiger.”  
  
Erin runs up, placing herself squarely in front of David. Her long lashes flutter.  
“Hello David Donnelly,” she says nearly breathless.  
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Michelle grumbles.  
  
Coffee eyes peruses the sea of faces. They sparkle when they land on James, gaze lingering.  
“Aye. Everyone all right? Hi James.” A lift of the chin accompanies the greeting. David runs his fingers through his chocolate waves and licks his lips.  
A stuttered gasp precedes James’ reply. “Hi David.”  
It’s the grin he next receives that makes every hair on James’ scalp tingle. His mind is just a mess of static.  
  
Erin shifts from left to right, breath shallow. “Well, David Donnelly… as Michelle might have mentioned we need your assistance with something.”  
“Aye, all right. What’s this about?” His glance shifts from Erin to James and back.  
“Well- David Donnelly…”  
"Erin why do you keep calling me by my full name?"  
  
Michelle advances a step, before Erin makes anything worse she pushes her out of the way.  
“All right. Here’s the deal David. Our James here” – she half turns and James gives a shy wave. “James has got his heart broken by some English prick. We’re planning a bit of revenge to… let’s say lift his spirits.”  
David stops abruptly, heat warming his face. He lets his gaze drift up to James’ vale eyes. _  
_ So he’s single, David thinks. “Aye, okay? What can I do to help?”  
Erin, arms crossed, opens her mouth to speak but a lift of Michelle's finger stops her. Michelle’s gaze cuts to hers and everything in it says “Don’t even.”  
Face collapsing, Erin retreats.  
  
“Right,” Michelle presses her finger into David’s chest, the flannel soft against her skin. “We need _you_ to kiss _him_.“ She smirks.  
Blood leaps from David’s heart to his wobbly legs at the mention of the word kiss. Panic swells in James’ belly as the whole affair, once a description in Erin’s notebook, now takes true form.  
“And our Orla…” Orla raises a camera in the air… “is going to commemorate the moment with pictures we will then send to the English prick.”  
“Along with a sheep’s heart,” Orla chimes.  
Michelle swivels. “NO. NO FUCKING SHEEP’S HEART.”  
  
Returning her attention to David, who’s cheeks have pinked, she squints.  
“You’re not still with that massive ride Padraig, are you?”  
David tugs at his shirt collar, breath snagging hold onto something in his throat. “No. Not since last year. He’s feeking some lad from Ballynagard.”  
  
James looks like he’s about to faint, but he’s maintaining composure because, if the girls will go this far to help him, he owes them his bravery.  
“So will you do it?” Michelle goes to collect James. Before she does, she leans in and whispers “He’s got a huge hard-on for you, David. Might make it easier if you know he does actually like ye.”  
David’s eyebrows shoot up as his pulse picks up. “Um… I kinda like him too.”  
In one of the most self-satisfied grins she’s ever had, Michelle pats him on the shoulder. Her voice lowers even further so only he can hear her.  
Looking him straight in the eyes she warns “I knew it. So on that note, hurt my cousin and I’ll fecking kill you in your sleep. Now go lob the gob!”  
  
As the others wonder what they’re saying to each other, and Erin bites into her index fingernail, the question left unanswered to their ears gnaws away at James.  
“Um… excuse me. Are we doing this or not?” Orla asks for him. She waves the camera impatiently.  
  
David smiles, his dark liquid eyes eating James up.  
“Aye. Definitely. Do you mind if we do this behind the shop? I mean… you know… all these people.”  
“Yes, brilliant! Everyone behind Dennis’.”  
Michelle hustles up to James and hooks her arm into his. She reveals in a hushed whisper. “Listen… he told me he likes you, too. I’m not telling you to put more pressure on you, I’m just telling you so you won’t fuck this up. All right James? Don’t fuck this up!”  
  
James nods, heart lurching, sliding a curious glance behind him. David runs his thumb over his mouth and winks.  
_Oh Heavenly Father._    
  
Once they’ve stepped behind the shop, the girls form a single line to block the view into the alley, at least from that end of the street. Orla’s in the center, camera at the ready.  
Erin looks on, tapping her foot nervously. When David and James come close together, and their expressions soften, her eyes brim with warmth. They do belong together, she admits.  
  
“Whenever you’re ready,” Michelle says. “Make it believable.”  
Not going to be a problem, David says to himself.  
  
James didn’t think he’d be able to go through with it. Especially with an audience. But here he is, standing right in front of David Donnelly, his heart in this throat.  
David’s round magnetic eyes are two pools of desire, memorizing every inch of him. That’s when he knows. And James understands as well. Earth meets sea and there’s really no need for words but they feel compelled anyway.  
“Do you want me to… “ David doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s barely drawing breath, but one hand comes up to James’ cheek and cups it. James' opposite hand does the same to David.  
  
He feels a tremor inside as soon as he touches David’s skin. It’s a sensation that’s heating his thighs…his groin. Jesus… heating everything.  
David’s on fire himself, every synapse popping. He angles in, plump lips brushing James’ ear. The contact raises goose bumps across his skin.  
“I like you,” he confesses, and James bites into his lip.  
“I like you as well,” he whispers back.  
  
Suddenly it’s as if the world is spinning on all gears. They forget they’re in an alley behind the wee shop with a queue of teenage girls gawking, one snapping pictures and another shouting instructions. One teary-eyed out of joy and the other such a hopeless romantic she’s covering her mouth with her hands to hold in an "Aww.."  
  
As soon as their lips entwine, their bodies sink into each other’s. It starts slow and thoughtful. Feathery touch with tantalizing persuasion and dear God James has felt nothing like this… not even with Myles.  
David breathes through his nose, the pressure of their lips slowly increasing until finally with a lazy, sensuous movement David’s tongue asks permission… probing his lips gently. Nipping into the fullness.  
James allows, and David’s tongue sweeps inside to caress the walls of his mouth.  
  
The kiss sends the pit of James’ stomach into a wild swirl, joy singing through his veins.  
“David,” he whimpers, not really knowing what he wants to say.  
“James,” David sibilates. “James will you meet me tonight?” he begs with a heart full of hope and need.  
James nods. They miss the memory of their bruising kiss already.  
“Kiss me again, David,” James begs. And he does. With utter abandon he reclaims his mouth and they’ve got their heads cradled in the palms of their hands to explore deeper. James covers David’s pout hungrily, small moans escaping in a rumble from his chest.  
Everything about this kiss is a throbbing, passionate, almost desperate message.  
  
Michelle picks up on it. Blinks. Reaches out to stay Orla’s hand.  
“Fuck me. Stop taking pictures, Orla. Stop it.”  
Clare looks down at her feet, wiping an errant tear from her eye. Erin’s already with her back to the boys, pensive eyes looking up to the slate grey sky.  
  
Orla lets the camera drop to her side. “But what about the revenge?”  
Michelle blinks back brine and gently takes Orla by her elbow.  
“We don’t need them, Orla. James doesn’t need revenge. He’s found what he’s looking for right here in Derry. Now let’s give them some privacy.”  
"So no sheep's heart?"  
  
-   
  
It's the end of the day. All the Derry Girls (including James) are unusually quiet as they sit facing the huge desk.  
This lot? Quiet? This is precisely why Sister Michael isn't buying it.   
She raises one thin eyebrow forming a question mark.   
"Do you know why I called you in here today?"  
The reply she gets is fidgeting and quick blinks.  
"What's the matter with all of you? Normally I can't get you to shut up."   
  
James has a dreamy look on his face. He can still taste David on his lips. It all seems unreal.   
Erin holds the notebook to her chest, imagining a love story unfold as she plots her next literary venture.  
Sister Michael squints. She angles her head, gaze going from the notebook and traveling to Orla's blank expression. Clare chews on her knuckles nervously and Michelle yawns.   
  
"What in God's name is going on today?"  
James blubbers, Michelle's killing him with her stare. "Don't fucking say a word," she mouths.   
Erin lets the notebook drop into her lap. It immediately catches Sister's attention. She extends a hand. "What's that? Another diary, Erin? Hand it over."  
  
They all sit up, the color draining from their faces. Erin accidentally left the page open to the plan. "Sister, it's nothing. Just notes for a story."   
"Lovely," Sister Michael says in monotone with a slow roll of her eyes. "Just what I needed today. Another one of your stories. Give it here."  
  
Clare's tearing up. James would love to melt into the floor and disappear.   
With quivering hand, Erin hands over the book.   
  
Sister Michael scans the page. Amusement makes the corner of her eyes crinkle in some parts, and amazement paints her face in others.   
"Padraig O' Sullivan? No kidding... " she murmurs to herself.  _H_ e _'s quite the ride._ _Haven't sat on that side of the bench for a long time but..._  
  
Clare crosses herself.   
  
Sister rests the notebook down with a soft drop.   
"So...the wee English boy. Homosexual?"  
"James. It's James," he stutters. "And yes."   
"Aye, whatever. I don't care. You all came up with this sad plan?"  
  
Everyone nods, avoiding Michelle's glare. Orla raises her hand, the other twirling her curls around her index finger. "I proposed we send a sheep heart but it got shot down."  
Sister facepalms. Draws a deep breath as her head sways from side to side. "Orla, there are nights I'm up staring at the ceiling with a profound worry that you're freely roaming the streets of Derry."  
Michelle chuckles, and Clare kicks her chair.  
  
Sister clears her throat. "Now ladies..."   
James half waves and Sister Michael stares straight at him. "As I was saying... now ladies. This is amateur stuff. Nursery. Want to know about real heartbreak and revenge?"  
She hands the notebook back to Erin and indicates she write with a curved finger. Erin grabs for her pink pen, and Michelle swallows her gum from excitement.   
"Whatever she's about to say is gonna be cracker," Orla whispers as she leans forward.   
  
"Judo's been cancelled. It's Friday afternoon. What the hell. It was the summer of 1978 and his name was Shane Murphy. He was supposed to be the love of my life..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO SORRY for taking this long to post. I had a bunch of stuff happen and then tech issues (basically I'm an arse and left my computer charger in a hotel) and so I spent a week without being able to write... and let's face it writing on a phone is fecking torture.  
> I hope that the story at least makes up for the wait!  
> At least one more chapter on this one. Various Irish slang phrases to mean kissing or making out (lob the gob, feek, shift, wear).


	3. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David and James meet in the evening as promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of their conversation.

When he smiles, David’s lips curl slightly higher on the left side of his mouth, as if always on the edge of laughter.  
James notices. Each time David does it his breath hitches in a soft, light flutter.   
  
David inhales deeply. Waits until he’s strong enough to raise his head. Just glancing at James makes his heart weak.   
“Thanks for coming tonight, James.”   
James’ grin flashes briefly, dazzling against his alabaster skin. His plump lips still tremble in a ghost reminder of their earlier kisses.   
“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world, David Donnelly.”  
  
A deep laugh shakes the other, cigarette ash falling into his lap. He wipes it off with long sweeps. “Aye Erin. Right.”  
James’ voice cracks hysterically as he mimics Erin’s speech. “No, because _David Donnelly_ … I’ve been meaning to ask you out _David Donnelly_ … but then I’m also shy _David Donnelly_ …”  
  
Clutching his stomach, David’s wiping tears from his eyes as his whole body bobs. “I don’t know _James Maguire_ , I think I may need a little convincing.”   
That smirk. Jesus. Makes James' legs jelly.  
“Jokes aside, Erin is a sweet girl. Has a crush on you, you know. If she hadn’t graciously stepped away, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”  
  
David rests his chin on his bicep. His dark brown hair trails over his forehead. “Aye, you would.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I think Erin’s nice and all, but I’m not into her. I’m.. um... more into the lads.”  
  
David leans his head back and gazes into James’ vale eyes. It’s like looking into a pond covered in lily pads.  
“English lads in particular.”  
Curling his free hand around his middle, James’ thick lashes bat furiously. He doesn’t know whether to look away or just drown into David’s molten stare.  
“That’s interesting. It just so happens I found an Irish boy I rather fancy.”  
  
David quirks his eyebrow questioningly. A blush rises to his pale cheeks and he takes a long drag of his nearly finished cigarette. Something by his shoe steals his focus and he kicks it away.  
“Canna ask, what _did_ happen with the English lad?”   
Smoke withers from the corner of his dusky mouth and dissipates into a faint mist before disappearing altogether.  
James sighs, dipping his curly mop. “Well…”  
  
Lights twinkle on the other side of the Foyle River, reflected like colored confetti on the rippling water. They attract James’ attention. A quiet calm has come over Derry tonight. It’s breathable. Normally electric, the air has settled into something invitingly uncharged.  
The boys sit on the grass in St. Columb’s Park, shoulders touching, enjoying the privacy of the darkness.   
James peers over at David and smiles faintly, arms wrapped around his knees. He runs a long finger along the seam of the fabric covering his shin.   
“If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand. I didn’t mean ta…”   
“No no,” James protests with a shake of his head. “It’s alright. I want to.”   
  
Entranced by the silent sadness of his face, David snuffs out the butt of the cigarette and puts it in his pocket. His hand clasps James’ warmly, featherlike laugh lines crinkling around his espresso eyes. There’s a kind sympathy to them.  
“So, what did this English prick do?”  
James’ face darkens a moment with an unreadable expression. He gently squeezes David’s hand.   
“Myles…that was his name. He left me. By letter. Things between us were fizzling out, I have to admit. But when he told me he had another I just kind of lost it. Michelle found me crying and… here we are. I mean, honestly I had already begun developing feelings for you, from after Jenny Joyce's last party. But I wouldn’t have begun anything without breaking it off with him first. And... I wasn't sure you were into lads.”   
The last part is almost whispered.   
  
He’s loyal, David thinks. Cute, sweet, and loyal. He’s got it all. And he's polite.  
“Aye, well... I do. That's obvious now I suppose. So who was he? Someone from school?”  
Nodding, James continues. “Myles was a mate. It wasn’t exactly easy being gay even in London, so we never announced it officially. But I mean, most of my class knew. We didn’t do much to hide it.”   
“I guess in that way Derry is similar,” David notes, the burr of his r strong.   
  
“It just started us being mates, you know? But then we spent more and more time together. We had a lot in common and had a good laugh. One night we had an assignment to do and I was partnered with Myles. So I went over to his flat.”  
David laces his fingers with James’ as he listens. It helps to calm James’ breathing, he can feel the pulse in his wrist evening out.   
  
“That night it got late so I just slept over. Of course Myles’ father thought nothing of me sharing his bed. While talking, you know, before falling asleep, it just happened. He leaned in… so did I. Our lips brushed. I was panicking a little, I’d never kissed a boy before. But then it just seemed natural and everything fell into place.”  
“Did you date after that?” It's not that he wants to pry, but...   
  
“I wouldn’t call it dating. I mean it’s not like we went out to restaurants. But we hung out a lot. Myles was rich and had a huge flat near Kensington Gardens. Nice part of London.”  
“Sounds very posh.”   
“It was,” James replies, moving his thumb across David’s palm. “I don’t think his parents cared much for me being around all the time. But Myles was an only child and spoiled. He always got his way.”   
“That’s not a very Irish thing,” David chuckles as he swivels his body.  
“What isn’t?” James asks.  
“Being an only child. And also getting your way. I’ve got four brothers and two sisters. I could only dream of being alone. I don’t know what it means to have privacy. I mean, there’s constantly someone around, right?”  
  
James’ head bobs in agreement. Although he wouldn’t really know. He was an only child. Spoiled just like Myles. Until he had to move to Derry. Even so, he has his own room at his aunt’s and if it weren’t for Michelle barging in all the time, he’d have total privacy, too. His aunt and uncle are always working or engaged in activities. Thus they’re often left to their own devices.   
James wants to know more about his family. Opens his mouth to speak when David interrupts him.   
  
“Do you mind if I ask you something personal?” David plays with a loose string on his coat as he says it.   
James inclines his head in compliance. Shivers as a cool breeze picks up.   
David springs to attention. “Oh Christ James, you’re freezing!”   
James is wearing only a wool jumper. He thought it’d be a little warmer tonight.  
  
David doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he pulls off his red and black checkered jacket and slips it around James’ shoulders.   
An embarrassed grin paints itself on James’ lips. “Thank you,” he whispers, studying the handsome man before him. “You didn’t have to.”   
“It’s alright. I never get  _really_ cold. I’m always in layers, anyway.”  
  
He is. James has, on more than one occasion, sneaked a peek at David’s body. It's quite well hidden under at least 3 layers of clothing, but James suspects it’s not because he’s trying to hide it being disappointing.   
James clears his throat, unable to peel his gaze from David’s.  
David’s cheeks flush, his features are kindled with a passionate beauty James thinks. Nothing like Myles’, in fact. Little of David Donnelly is akin to his ex-boyfriend.   
  
“What?” David enquires shyly, flattening down a curl from James’ forehead. “Have I got something on my face?” The heat from the touch seems to burn into James.   
“Yes. Beauty. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, David.” James is surprised at how matter-of-factly he says it.   
Desire sparks hot in the pit of David’s belly as soon as the words register, and James is not unaffected as well. He shifts his body so their knees are touching and arches his back forward.   
“I could say the same about ye,” David murmurs.   
  
James simpers. Attempts to change the subject. “What did you want to ask me?” Jesus, his thoughts aren’t lining up. Every time he tries to align them they get knocked sideways by that beautiful coffee stare.   
David sits unmoving if not for his fingers which bring James’ knuckles to his. He kisses them softly.  
   
“I don’t want to be rude. I just… I was wondering if Myles was your first. Ye know… I mean  _all the way._  It took a while, right? But eventually Padraig convinced me to. But I kinda regret it. I kinda wished I’d waited for someone special…”   
Two round, chocolate orbs bore into James with undisguised attention. “Someone I might be in love with.”  
James can't help but swallow hard. His breath catches in his dry throat immediately.   
_Oh Christ!_  
  
It’s difficult for James to discuss his intimate life. He’s never been completely comfortable living out his sexuality. It took a long time before he and Myles even got to third base. But actual sex? That was huge. When he was with Myles, it just didn’t feel right.

James’ head swings in a slow side-to-side motion.  
“We never… _went all the way._ It didn’t feel right with him. I don’t know. It wasn’t the right person and I guess I knew that deep down. Make sense?”  
  
There’s a wrinkle to David’s nose and he scratches there.  
“Aye, I get that. I think I wanted to please Padraig so much I went along. But my heart wasn’t in it, right? I mean sure, twas good fun. But there wasn’t any emotion to it, ya know?”  
  
“Sure. But if that's the case, you know what I think? I think you can take it back. I think if you find the right person, when you finally do it with them, _that_ can be the first real time. The one that matters. It'll be magical.”  
  
Bowing his face between his shoulders, right forearm resting on Jame’s bony knee, he inches forward. Fingertips reach to touch the silky skin of James' scarlet cheeks.   
  
“Aye. Right. And what if I thought the right person was ye?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come! Been away on business and have had wicked jet-lag but I'm back!


	4. The First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James (finally) loses his virginity to David Donnelly.

Wax and cotton and the scent of something with a ship on its bottle. This is what James’ room smells like.   
Michelle lifts the candle and her nose scrunches up.   
“Ocean.”   
“Yes.”   
“Did you get this at Dennis’ wee shop?”  
James’ twin nods in her direction by way of the standing mirror. He’s been rooted there for 5 minutes now.  
Releasing the fabric of his shirt and straightening it. Releasing and straightening.   
James angles his head so he can get a different view.   
  
“And along with the ocean candle you decided to bathe in my Da’s cologne?”  
Panicked, James snaps his head. A stubborn curl falls over his forehead.   
“Is it too much?”  
Michelle is leaning against the dented chest of drawers, two shot glasses which gently reflect the candlelight resting near her hand.  
“No, I’m just fucking with ya.”   
  
Exhaling a sigh of relief, he spreads his arms and pirouettes.   
“How do I look?”   
She clucks her tongue. “Gay.”   
His enthusiasm is immediately extinguished, like the match snuffed out between Michelle’s nimble fingers as she lights a cigarette.   
“Well, I mean that’s good, right? You ARE gay. But seriously, what’s the point?”  
James looks himself up and down.  
“What do you mean what’s the point?”    
A cloud of smoke obscures her view. Michelle coughs lightly.   
“Isn’t he coming over to get you  _out_ of those clothes?”  
“Michelle!” James gasps.   
  
Turning back to the mirror, he raises his palms up in defeat. “Maybe this isn’t…”   
James shifts his weight from left foot to right until he falls into a sitting position on his bed. He sighs, his chest deflating visibly.   
“You cleaned up I see,” she observes.   
The bed’s been made and gone is the clutter from his desk and chair. James tidied up after school, replaced the linens, and now it resembles a bedroom again. By comparison Michelle’s room looks like the sorting end of an Oxfam shop.  
“I did, this afternoon. But what’s the use?”   
  
The shot glasses end up back in her hand, the cigarette dangling from her glossed lips. His cousin occupies the free place next to James and puts one of the two round glasses in his palm.   
“What are you on about? Here- drink.”   
If the damp forehead and muscle twitching don’t give it away, the terrified pallor on his face is a calling card.   
“I’m nervous, Michelle.”   
“About what?”  
“Well… I’ve never… “ James whispers, shyly swirling the clear liquid between thumb and index fingers.   
Michelle’s eyelids snap open. “What? Not even with Myles? I thought… “  
“No.” It’s punctuation more than a word. “Just some… stuff. Never  _that.”  
  
_Her hand slowly travels to her hoop earring, running the pad of her index finger along the metal. Michelle’s lips close around the fag, taking another drag.   
“Well has David done it?”   
“Yes, but he-“  
“Well then you’re all set. All you need’s to wash your bits. _Have_ you washed your fun bits?”  
  
James gasps, a scarlet tint rising in his cheeks. “Jesus, Michelle! Of course… of course I’ve… washed my _bits._ ”   
“Then you’ll be fine. Drink your vodka. It’ll help you relax.”  
Before he can protest, she’s drunk hers _and_ his.   
“Too late motherfucker.” Shakily crossing the three steps back, Michelle pours another two.  
“Sorry ‘bout that. Here’s another.”   
  
James reaches out and takes it, but wonders suddenly if he should. If  _any_ of this is a good idea.   
“I really don’t think I should be inebriated.”   
A twitching hand returns it to her, but Michelle crosses her arms.   
“I don’t know about you, but the prospect of something going up  _there_  might warrant a drink, James. It was designed for the opposite purpose if you catch my drift. Might pose a little resistance.”  
If he could melt into the floor he would. “Oh dear God, Michelle! Could you be more crass?! And wait, how do you know _I_  won’t be the one doing the-“  
A belly-laugh almost makes her drop her still- lit cigarette, now nearly a nub.   
“Oh please James, fecking look at you. He’ll have your face in a pillow in two seconds flat.”   
  
James licks his lips with a papery tongue and realizes how thirsty he’s become. Is he dehydrated? Should he have more water but then won’t he have to pee and what if…  
“Wait, so you think…? Should I ring him? Put this off?”  
  
His mind is reeling and he can feel a pulse flicker somewhere in his throat.   
Michelle guffaws. “Feck no! You’ve been dating for two weeks. He told you he wants to ride you  _in as many words_. Ma is on night shift and Da is away for the weekend. It’s a Friday night. Won’t be for another two weeks that Da is away. You want to wait that long? Now fuckin’ DRINK.”  
  
A sound of air being sucked in through teeth fills the room. James winces as he sips down the contents, replacing the glass by his feet.   
Michelle throws her head back, guzzling her third.   
“Feckin’ hell… “  
“Well, perhaps we could find another place in a few days, you never know.”  
Despite the vodka, James is looking a shade paler.   
“Where? At the Donnelly’s? They’ve got like ten wains there, it’s worse than Waterside station. Here you’ve got a bed and total privacy. I’m going over to Erin’s for the night.”  
  
Temples swelling like they might burst, James pushes on them.   
“And you’re sure you and the girls won’t steal back to spy?”  
Clucking her tongue, Michelle narrows her eyes.   
“Are fucking kidding me? I’m not a pervert.”   
No hesitation. “Yes, you are.”   
She chuckles. “Fair enough. I am. But I’m not _enough_ a pervert to wanna hear my cousin having sex for the first time. You’ve got all night, take advantage.”   
  
James’ head is swirling with doubts. He continues to wring the hem of his shirt in his hands.   
“Are we still talking about this? And would you stop wrinkling your shirt for fuck’s sake!”   
“I don’t feel prepared,” he sighs, attention drawn to his shoes as he drops his chin.   
Michelle’s suddenly filled with a ripple of compassion. She knows, she’d been there before. Of all her friends she’s the one who’s ever gone the furthest with a boy. Sure, Clare and Orla are the ones most experienced now sexually, but it’s different between two women. Softer somehow, at least that’s how Clare describes it. But with men… and two men together on top of it all… perhaps it can be a wee daunting. Things poking about and whatnot.   
  
“No one’s ever prepared, James. I wasn’t.” She sits back down and they touch knees. She nudges him with an elbow.   
“You’re still a virgin, too, Michelle.”  
“I sort of half did it. It didn’t go in all the way. But it wasn’t traumatic. But we’re not talking about me.”  
The sudden lurch in his chest makes him want to double over.   
“Oh God I don’t think I want to do this.”  
“Hey. It’ll be fine.”A long index finger pokes James in the chest. The furrow in her brow means business.   
“Listen, ballache. Point is I wasn’t ready, but I tried it, because I liked him a lot. You two have got a real connection, he's a massive ride, and it’s high time you both get some.”  
  
James forces a smile and nods tensely. “Right. Maybe you’re right.”  
“I AM right.”   
“Okay. Okay. It’ll be tonight.”  
“When’s he coming?”   
The small clock in the room reads 7:45. “In… oh Sweet Jesus. In 15 minutes.”  
  
“Okay,” Michelle rises and puts her hands on her hips. What’s left of the cigarette ends up in a plastic cup.   
“Listen. I read about some stuff in the library. There’s a whole section there that you don’t even know exists. So, apparently…”  
“What?” James’ voice cracks, body lurching forward.   
“Nevermind. I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she replies with a raised eyebrow. “Unless… “  
James half-sits, arm extended, pleading.   
“No. Michelle. Please… “  
“Fine. One second.”   
  
Her wavy hair billows after her and a minute later she returns with a paper bag and a knowing look on her face. She drops it in his lap.   
James studies it as if he’s never seen a paper bag before.   
“What’s this? A brown bag lunch?”  
_“This_ ,” she puts an emphasis on the word “is the first thing you need. I went to the chemist for you, James. I figured you’d die of shame.”  
James bends his head as he opens the flaps. His shoulders immediately relax.   
“Michelle… thank you. David said he’d bring-“   
Michelle blows a strand of hair from her face and turns back to James, who now looks slightly less on the verge of running for the hills.   
  
“Well, just in case. Better safe than sorry. There’s a bottle in there. Use it. It’ll help with the… “   
She makes an obscene gesture with her finger and a hole. James reddens until he’s cerise.  
  
A part of him is grateful and another acknowledges how seriously his cousin is taking this.   
Her kindness isn’t unnoticed.    
“There’s 12 geebags in there, too. Should be plenty. Padraig is a total slag so don’t let David poke you without one, in case they never used them. Ask first. It’s a mood killer but it’s important.”  
James blinks away a tear. Rolls the paper ends back up and puts them in the nightstand drawer. “Why are you doing all this for me, Michelle?”  
His curiosity is genuine.   
  
Her smile widens into a grin. “Because you’re my ballache of a cousin and I don’t want you to get hurt. Your first time should be special and as comfortable as possible. Having said that, the other thing… “  
“Yes?” James is now literally hanging off the end of the bed.   
“So like I said. I went to the library to… research. I don’t know what… oh Christ, I’m just going to say it. I’m not sure what  _position_  you’ll be using but I read, if you happen to, ya know, from behind… It helps if you prop a couple pillows beneath your crotch. Apparently it eases the… angle. Hurts less. If it’s missionary, well just hold your ankles they say. ”  
  
His usual crooked smile quirks up to one side. “Um, Michelle, I don’t know what to say. I would have been really embarrassed about all this but you’re not taking the mick and you’re being so nice. I mean… thank you for all this. I’d have no one else to discuss this with if-“   
  
Michelle sighs. Reaches to fix his collar. “Yeah. Don’t get fucking melodramatic with me now, James.”   
She smirks and gives him a wink. “It’ll go fine. Here, do one more shot with me. For good luck.”  
“Okay, Michelle,” he nods.  
  
The vodka spills over onto his fingers when he’s being poured another and he licks it off.  
A clink follows.   
“Here’s to becoming a man. Sláinte.”    
“Cheers,” he chortles.   
  
As the vodka burns its way down their throats, the doorbell rings.   
“Oh God it’s him,” James says, wiping the liquid from his lips with the back of his hand.   
“Relax. It’ll be great. And if he’s anything but a perfect gentleman you send his hole back home. Got it?”  
“Got it.”  
“I’ll get the door. You come down after a minute and make a nice entrance. I’ll leave the booze here in case you need liquid courage.”   
“Thanks, Michelle. For everything.”  
She breathes off an easy laugh. “Yeah. No problem. Just enjoy yourself, all right?”  
  
_  
  
When the door opens, David Donnelly is standing on the footstep, holding a small bouquet and wearing a dazzling grin. His hair is still wet and he smells like one of his sisters’ strawberry shampoos. He's finally only in one layer and when he gets rid of his checkered jacket, Michelle gives him a one-over.  
Not bad at all, she thinks. As she sidles up to him, something spicy wafts over. Is he wearing cologne, too?   
Michelle smiles to herself. He’s done up for James. These two.   
  
“Hey Michelle. You all right?” His broad smile reaches his round, chocolate eyes, spreading small lines outward.   
“Hi David. Come in. James is coming down. I’m going to Erin’s, don’t worry. You lads have got the place to yourselves.”  
He rolls his shoulders to ease the tension. “Aye, thanks.”  
  
She squints, peering into the bag he’s carrying. Tiny blue and green flowers wrapped in crinkly paper tremble in David’s hand. Next to it is what looks like a very similar paper bag to the one Michelle just gave James.  
“David? Those for me?” she quips.  
His eyes widen and blood rushes from his face.  
“No, I mean… “  
She slaps his arm a second later, chuckling. “Nah, I’m feckin’ with ye.”  
“Oh… “ he murmurs.   
Thankfully James breaks the tension.  
“Hey there.”  
He’s made his way down the steps. Looking very dashing in his white shirt and pressed trousers, David’s attention hangs on him. His breath hitches a moment.  
“You all right, James?”  he manages, some grit to his voice.   
  
His dark-eyed gaze tugs at James’ heart and Michelle casts only the slightest of glances towards them. They’ll be just fine, she thinks.   
“Have fun, lads,” she says with a wink. “I’m off to get pissed at Erin’s.”  
As she grabs her coat from the rack, bobbing her head over at James, he mouths “thanks” one more time. None of this would have happened without her.   
“Bye Michelle,” they both say in unison before the door shuts behind her. 

James’ heart has kicked a ruckus in his chest. David’s own is pounding so fast he can barely keep himself from choking. Long lashes blink madly on both.  
“I… what’s a proper gift for these occasions? Especially among lads. I’m not good at… anyway, I wanted to bring something so I got these for you,” David stumbles.  
  
James looks inside and he gasps. David’s forehead relaxes in relief.   
Flowers, James thinks. No one had ever brought him any sort of gift, let alone flowers. And a smaller bag, as promised, he notices.  
  
“These flowers are beautiful, David. Thank you. Shall I put these in water? It’s that I don’t know where my Aunt keeps the vase…”  
As he’s looking about him, surveying the room for anything deep enough to hold the stems, David gathers his courage and approaches. Two warm hands envelope James’ shoulders.   
James shifts straight to him, moss eyes rapt on his beautiful face.   
“They’ll be all right, James,” he whispers.    
  
Those feelings take over. The ones from the day they first kissed behind Dennis’ Wee Shop. Suddenly their minds turn to mush.   
David hooks his arm around James’ slim waist and with the other hand wraps a curl around his finger before cupping his cheek.  
“Yes I suppose the flowers will be fine.”  
Their lips feather-touch and when they finally settle, the caress sets their bodies aflame.   
Any lingering doubt James might have had dissipates.   
  
-

Two of their hands are intertwined, pressing into the soft mattress until their knuckles are white.  
James lies beneath David, enjoying every second of his velvety touch.  
He frees his right hand, trailing a finger down towards the dark mound from which springs David’s impressive sex.  
While maintaining eye contact he shifts up and guides its sheathed head near _there_ , his most intimate place, where three of David’s fingers are already massaging him.  
“Are you okay with this?” David asks, and James just sibilates “Want this. Want you.”  
  
Gliding to the small of David’s back, James gently kneads in. His grip grows possessive and more intense the more David ruts against him. Five fingers thread into David’s wavy hair as he demands a kiss. When he pulls off he thinks he’s nearly ready.    
“It’s okay… one more… “  
  
David nuzzles his neck, licking up his jaw and back over his slick lips. Touching his face with the back of his free hand, James draws it downward.  
“Kiss me again and again,” he begs.   
The blush of pleasure rises to James’ cheeks and beyond. David’s hot tongue sweeps inside his mouth, James’ grinding into him with lips opening and closing, seeking and claiming.   
“Please,” James stutters. “Please.”   
He bucks gently, the brush against his prostate unexpected.  
“Oh God… “  
  
Bodies pressing against one another become one with a soft sigh and a promise on David’s lips.   
Knees bracketed on either side of James, David shuts his eyes and disappears inch by inch within James’ heat.   
It’s only a moment of pain. The initial stretch. Slowly, the throbbing brings with it a flush of warmth that urges James to spread himself further.   
“Look at me,” David moans as he dips for kisses.  
  
He’s gentle and tender. The perfect lover. For a few minutes every thrust brings shudders of pleasure, making their limbs quiver.    
David feels like he’s swimming in a warm pool, his lips navigating James’ body where they reach until he’s got him in a haze.  
A low moan snaps him out of it. David leans his head back so he can study James’ half-lidded eyes.   
“I’m not hurting ye, am I?” he asks with red, swollen lips.   
The corner of his mouth quirks up and James shakes his head, curls damp on his forehead.   
“No… no. You’re perfect, David. It’s perfect. It’s just… I’m close… I can’t help it. You feel so good. Please… go faster.  I’m sorry if it’s too soon, it’s just so… dreamy.”   
  
Kissing the hollow at the base of his throat, David chuckles, almost beaming. He’s actually surprised James has lasted this long.  
“It’s okay, luv. We can do it all night. As many times as we want. It’s normal the first time so just enjoy it…come for me now. I want you to come for me.”   
“Oh God…” the way he says it… James’ dick twitches.  
  
It’s almost an ache now, he wants him so badly. He’s drunk on the fullness, on David’s giving nature and his scalding flesh and... everything.    
Jame’s hand strays to his turgid cock, thicker than David’s though not as long. Low moans and instructions urge his lover.  
Deeper.  
Faster.   
  
“Yes, David… like that… “ His murky sea eyes never leave his lover’s who looks at him in worship.  
“I’m so close,” he mewls.  
The fruity smell mixed with musk invading the breathing space between them, permeating the air caught between their lips, it makes James want to bite into his lover’s strong shoulder.   
“Heavenly Father…”  
  
David sucks in his lower lip, his end orange and bright behind his eyelids like a winter sunset. James bears down and thrusts his chest out, fist curled into the sheets while the other milks.  
That’s it. It’s done. He’s calling on God and he’s calling David and…  
  
It’s one drawn out scream, dragged from the depths of him. David, when he hears his name, urged on by the tightness and the shudders of pleasure beneath him, explodes.  
His release fills its sheath over and over and then, like pulling a shade on a window, the orange fades to black.  
  
David collapses with rushed breath onto James’ heaving, sticky chest.   
“Christ, James. _Jesus Christ_.”   
  
James’ fingers clutch into David’s strong back, both of them still shivering from the lingering waves of orgasm. James kisses the top of David’s dark head, who slides his arms around them both, pulling James close.   
When he rests his chin in the groove of his sternum, the other grins, fixing some hair from his glistening face.   
“Was it all right, James?” David pants.  
A hastily suppressed giggle rings out in the silence. “All right? I thought I was going to pass out! It was incredible. Incredible!”   
  
A boyish grin makes David’s whole face come alive with affection and delight.   
“I’m glad. Thank you for being my first, James.”   
James frowns a moment as if puzzled, a tendril of dark hair around his finger.  
“But I’m not your-“ and then he stops short. Remembers their conversation at the park and a sparkle returns to his leafy eyes.   
“You’re welcome, David. Thank you for being mine.”   
  
James pulls the sheet over the curve of David’s perfect backside, whose muscles slack into him.  
“Should we snuggle a bit?” James suggests.  
“Aye, I’d love that,” David replies, giving him a puppy-dog look. “But just a little. Remember, we’ve got all night and I promised you an unforgettable first.”  
  
Laying his hands gently on the bow of his back, tracing invisible hearts into his nape, James leans in and kisses the top of his nose.  
“It already has been. But now you’ve got me addicted to you, David Donnelly. A wee snuggle it is.”  
“You said ‘wee’,” David laughs in surprise.    
“Aye,” he says it with a wink to make it a point. “Something about Derry's grown on me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh these two. One more chapter with all the gang, though honestly I'm hating the idea of this fic ever ending.  
> I hope you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> My first Derry Girls fic and I loved writing it. Hope you liked it! Stay tuned for more!


End file.
